


record breaking

by Merit



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Injury, M/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 05:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12574944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: Once, Victor hadn't been a legend.





	record breaking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lileura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lileura/gifts).



His first day back in Russia and the sky was dark, light pollution colored the low hanging clouds orange and purple. The street lights were still shining brightly when Victor exited his apartment, Makkachin still asleep on his dog bed, skates slung over his shoulders.

Since he was young, since he was a teenager, long hair still clinging to his neck, he'd always had a key to the rink. He snuck in, whistling, the key moving smoothly in the lock. The ice was fresh and smooth and Victor knew he had made the right decision to come back to skating from the moment he first put a foot on the ice.

When he crashed to the ice, his own harsh breathing the only thing shattering the air, Victor was still until he could smile again, the sharp taste of blood in his mouth.

Victor skated until the first people had started to trickle onto the rink. He'd smiled and said hello, his feet aching, his back reminding him of stretches he'd foregone. He'd skated to the side, sweat staining his shirt, swept his hair out of his eyes and smiled brightly. His hip ached.

And then Yuri had entered, all fury and light, his hair pulled back tightly had placed his first skate on the ice.

Yuri had never interested Victor. His skating had never been exciting enough and Victor had seen so many like him come and go. Bright boys who had grown up with posters of him on their walls, long haired Victor smiling sweetly through the blood on his feet. And they'd all fallen, injury and age and simply not being good enough taking them far away.

Yuri dominated the center of the rink. He moved with casual dominance, the Junior skaters scattering to the edge of the rink. A year ago and he would have been one among many, a bright star, but not someone who had crashed and broken a living legend's record.

Victor watched from the side, skates to one side, muscles screaming in his thighs.

 

 

“Does it hurt?” Yuri asked, idle curiosity in his voice. The ice was clear again, the sun flaring briefly through the gray clouds, before disappearing behind building and earth. He switched positions, foot above his head, back arched at an impossible angle, blond hair falling into his eyes. He moved with the ease of youth, of flexibility he hadn't outgrown, of injuries that had yet to happen. Victor, scars on his knee, his ankle, hidden by the dark gray marl of his leggings, muscles leering out of the fabric. He bent further, testing the limits, while Yuri smoothly switched between positions.

It hurt.

Victor smiled, the set of his jaw tight, and rolled his neck, wincing at the cracking sound. Still, Yuri watched, stretching his leg out, muscles sharply defined in his tight leggings.

“It looks like it hurts,” Yuri said, sitting on a bench, the harsh light of the rink marking the sleeplessness under his eyes. He's watching Victor out of the corner of his eye, hair falling into his eyes and Victor had used that trick.

“Does it?” Victor said, smiling up in the lights, the moon and the stars blotted out. “Lots of things hurt, sometimes.”

“It does,” Yuri said definitively, pronouncing a judgment. He smiled, flicking the hair out of his eyes and Victor had once read all the skating magazines once, before he started appearing on the covers multiple times a year, always the same shot until he cut his hair. Yuri, fluorescent lights washing him out, had the same angles.

“Injuries happen. And it gets harder to get back into skating each time,” Victor said. Yuri's eyes flicker to his knee, when Victor had painstakingly, more painful than the actual injury, taught himself _not_ to flinch. To land with grace and strength and everything that had been cut into him. He placed a hand on his knee, muscles not starting under his touch.

Yuri edged closer, the heat of his thigh pressing into Victor. There's a line of freckles across his nose, he's frowning, and Victor can see where Yuri will have lines spreading like a star burst across his skin.

One day.

He moved slowly, but Yuri watched him cat like, eyes wide open and unblinking. When Victor tilted his chin back, Yuri breathed through his teeth, pupils darkening. He licked his mouth, pink tongue darting across his lips.

 

 

It wasn't the first time he'd taken someone to the showers. Hot water rushed down over them, Yuri's bright blond hair, sticking to his forehead as he opened his mouth in a sharp gasp. He squeezed his eyes shut, against the hot wash of the water, against Victor's hand on his skin.

He shuddered, jerking up into Victor's touch, hands scrabbling on his shoulders. He was opening his mouth, garbled sounds emerging, hips bucking up. He pushed up against Victor, his full weight pressed against him, forcing him to lean back, water sliding under his feet. He was desperate, mouth twisted, fingers shaking on Victor's shoulders.

“Victor,” he murmured, lost in the water, in wet, open mouthed kiss Victor was leaving against his neck. His hands skated down Victor's hips, not touching, pressing into the ugly bruise on Victor's skin. Victor twisted his hand, thumb sliding across flesh, and Yuri arched up into his hand. He was poetry, rough and raw, in motion.

Victor kissed him, against the lips, teeth biting into soft flesh. Yuri shook against him, hips stuttering as he finished, sagging against Victor, against the cracked gray tiles. Their heavy breathing was stolen by the steady flow of water, cooling slightly. The water slid down his face, brighter and cleaner. Yuri cracked his eyes open, a heavy flush on his cheeks, his chest, snaking down to his cock, curled against his thigh.

“What next,” Yuri said, licking his lips, tilting his head back so he can meet Victor's gaze.

 

 

When Victor landed, pain lanced through his legs and he embraced it. At the edge of the rink, mouth red, hair mussed, his shirt hanging off one shoulder, Yuri watched him.

He took the open ice as an invitation, a challenge. It was his to conquer, his to own.

And Yuri watched him like he was still a legend.


End file.
